Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, KALYPSO, by TRUMBULL STICKNEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

KALYPSO, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Then sang kalypso yet another song
Last Line: Were't but the smoke of tree-clad ithaca.


Then sang Kalypso yet another song.
And it was waxen late. Beyond her isle.
Beyond the sea and world hung drearily
A full moon. Quiet was, except the wind
Lifting the water's murmur as a girl
May lift the fold of some sad Eastern silk.
One cloud, a presage, loitered. All the air
Was marvellous and sorrowful, as of
Jasmine sea-touched and roses pale with spray.
Of fading oleander, clematis
Grown weary on the garden wall. Anon
The cold salt wind did rise and scatter all
Odours: a little chill, then quietude.
So here did mix the land's breath and the sea's.

And still she paused. Her solemn lips, possessed
By that shy thought that comes before a song,
Were silent. And he raised his languid arm.
Clasping it all she turned on him then
The earnest heaven of her desirous eyes;
Drew him about her feet, against her knees,
Closer; and rested in his hair one hand.
The other alone, moving so musical
That her low notes were not more song than it,
Described the region of the sinking moon,
While soft and even a most unhappy strain.

The modulation of an endless grief,
Flowed from her lips. And tiredly she sang:

"She says: 'Follow my steps and take my hand
To where the shoreward sea falls colourless
And light is growing less, grows ever less
Yet quencheth never; where the seas expand
And shrink, where nothing altereth. I stand
Upon that melancholy marge of sand.

"'The earth was made; yet then was I alone,
Walking this skyey meadow's nodding gold.
I've seen her freshest garden turned old
And men grow mortal in her beds of stone.
But I am still alone, and near the sun
Sometimes I think my heart is waxen cold
For having been so very long alone.'"

Her voice was richer with the widening song.
Light came and went, colour reposed and fled
About her face. There in the swarthy night
She shone like opal, flickering weird flame
And crossed with splendour. On his neck her hand
Quivered; he felt her blood throb; languidly
Thro' closing eyelids of the soul he saw
The world dissolve in rosiness. She sang:

"'Come! so long have I looked on thee, so long
That my gold lids are heavy with desire;
My arms for waiting here in heaven tire;
My throat is tuneless with unceased song.
Where nothing is and day and night prolong
Each other in the sober twilight fire,
Give me thy soul for having looked so long.

"'I go below. Follow thou in my trace
And taste my solitude. There all the air
Becomes a lover feeling love so rare.
The chilly wave walks nearer yet to share
The rhythm and ecstasy of our embrace.
And evening jealous of our flushed face
Goes out in sad retire and pale despair.

"'And while upon that solitary sand
The ripples burn away their fringe of light
And after me drawn down the heavenly night
Unnumbered stars fall throbbing to the land,
Let all the glamour of my courses waned
Possess thy soul in lingering delight --
Let me in darkness feel thy failing hand.'"

Over his head she stooped. Her odorous hair
Fell thickly o'er his face. She kissed him
With all the sleepy honeys of her soul.
Her arms did slip along his neck, his breast;
She kissed him lazily upon the lids
And languorously on the brow, she kissed him
Trembling and fiery on the opened mouth.

And slowly --
Wind rose. Rustles crept to 's ear.
Thro' meshes of her hair he saw gray-blown
The thick tumultuous cloud blotted and streaked
With witchery of dead moon. The midnight whirred.
Sparsely the windy stars and feebly hung,
A little withered leaf blew by; it scratched
Him with its frittered edge. For it was autumn.
Autumn it was. Then did he know. No more
That year would he return, that year no more;
Rather, locked by the vastly circular
Walls o' the sea, the quashing roof of heaven,
Still suffocated in the changeless air,
Still vexed by incessant memory and recall,
Would stand in pain desirous of that dear
Fireside and her more dear and beautiful --
O curse to exile! Horrid ire shook him.
He started from her embrace, muttered, struggled --
Then sudden came into dominion
Of his great self. He stood and said to her,
"Thou art more masterful than death. The life
That spurred me thro' the waters of the world
Was spend indeed -- and claimed again, O love,
Upon thy soul's warm shore." And amorously, she thought,
He neared her, lifted her. They drew toward
Her dwelling. To herself she seemed queen
Over his love, and on the forward heaven
Of her retreating hope she lit the stars
Of happy hours, of happy days -- the crown
Of long desire; and drank of his embrace
A dear oblivion of sad doubt: the while
He plotted to beguile this woman here,
Gaoler of Fate, to drug her love asleep,
That ere his death tho' waxen old he'd see
Were't but the smoke of tree-clad Ithaca.






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